


The King of Morose

by GoingVintage



Category: Lucifer (TV)
Genre: F/M, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-11
Updated: 2020-09-11
Packaged: 2021-03-06 23:35:50
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,760
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26407354
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GoingVintage/pseuds/GoingVintage
Summary: Just a quick one-shot as Lucifer wanders the corridors of Hell and tries not to think about Chloe and the life he left behind.
Relationships: Chloe Decker/Lucifer Morningstar
Comments: 5
Kudos: 36





	The King of Morose

**Author's Note:**

> Author's note: I haven't written fanfiction in years, but I am newly addicted to Lucifer and am shipping Deckerstar so hard that I can't handle it, so I'm dusting off the old fanfic chops just to put out a brief little one-shot. I am incredibly rusty, and, for that, I apologize. Thanks for reading.
> 
> This takes place after S4 E10 and kind of before S5 E3. The ending is obviously AU since it doesn't mention Lucifer's "slopey-shouldered" brother, Michael.

Lucifer had listened to the sound of his own heels clicking against the hard rocks that lined the corridors of Hell for countless millennia. If he stopped long enough outside a door – any door - he could hear the slashing of flesh, the screams of agony, the pleas for forgiveness, or the eerie silence inside. Each Hell loop was a frightening look into the human psyche, and Lucifer had seen them all. He never much gave a damn before because… well… they were humans. Father's favorite play things. Objects of scorn and hatred. Stupid, cruel, wretched humans, and they were all Father cared about.

He found that he was always drawn to the quiet cells, the ones where there weren't obvious sounds of pain. Those were usually the cells he chose to enter, the creaking doors breaking through the silence inside. He was never sure what he would find once he entered, but he always knew that the silent loops usually belonged to the ones who had damned themselves here. Their crimes might not have been very bad, or they might have done nothing at all and could have been walking the streets of Silver City if they had allowed themselves. During their mortal lives, though, these pitiful souls were convinced they were going to Hell. So here they were. Those silent cells usually held souls whose rejection was their torture, or where a harsh word or an argument that was never resolved played again and again as the miserable wretch sat in a corner, clothes tattered and skin dirty, tears streaking down their gaunt faces. _If only they'd had themselves a Dr. Linda,_ Lucifer caught himself thinking more than once.

Ahh, yes… Dr. Linda.

Lucifer avoided all thoughts of his friend, and of all the other humans that had briefly been his life, as much as possible. He'd had plenty of time to make peace with his newfound understanding of humans, but he still struggled with being here. And desperately wanting to be _up there._

He remembered when he thought humans were merely detestable. Life was easier back then, but he could only entertain himself with the misery of others for so many eons before he was bored as shit and needed a brief dalliance topside. That was what compelled Lucifer to take a vacation that became permanent and eventually settle on Los Angeles as his home. He'd opened Lux, and his world became overrun with humans. Sure, for the first few years they were nothing but means to a lucrative, debauched end. They spent money in his club, supplied him with the highest quality cocaine available, and they were more than willing to serve him on their knees, their backs, or wherever Lucifer decided he wanted to take them. He punished them through sex, pushing pleasure to the point of pain, stretching them wide, filling them with his cock until they were crying out, begging, pleading with him. (He had to laugh when they called upon Father, as well.) But unlike in Hell, on Earth they were begging for more of what he could give them, begging for him to _please don't stop_ , and the punishment ended in pleasure. Lucifer found that humans were eager to let him use them sexually, and he was more than happy to give them what they wanted.

Things changed, though, even for the King of Hell, and his life on Earth meant that Lucifer changed, too. He began to connect with them, which shocked him at first. From Dr. Linda to the little urchin with the smart mouth to Ella and her awkward need to embrace everyone from accused criminals to strangers, Lucifer found that, over time, he had developed a complex understanding of humans that far surpassed what he knew from the many millennia he had walked these corridors and watched their loops. Humans were amusing and, much to his surprise, they were… good. Not all of them, obviously, as their evil ways ensured job security for millions of demons, but overall, humans were inherently good. Lucifer had discovered that humans were more than just his reigning responsibility, and they were more than their sins, their crimes, the crushing weight of their guilt.

They were, well… One of them, anyway, the single most important thing to ever cross his path.

Pulling his thoughts away from her yet again, Lucifer stopped in front of a rusted door and leaned in, focusing on the sounds coming from inside. The scream echoed throughout the space, bouncing off the door, and Lucifer realized he was standing in front of the cell of a particularly evil man, one who had slaughtered hundreds of Native Americans in the US back in the days of the pioneers. From the sounds coming from inside, he was being gutted over and over again, his Hell loop focused on the moment his ability to terrorize had come to an end as his victims had fought back.

Lucifer found himself listening to more and more of these with each passing decade. When he focused on the screams of the wretched, he didn't think about her.

His detective.

The terrified screams behind the door came to a gurgling, struggling end, and Lucifer moved down the corridor. This particular area was filled more than 150 years ago in human time, full of roughnecks, murderers, rapists, and those who profited off the deaths of the poor and voiceless. From murderous widowers who had killed their multiple wives for meager insurance payouts to a twisted woman doctor who had convinced her patients that starving themselves would heal them before she let them die so she could steal all of their belongings, this corridor was a frightful look back into sadistic world history.

Jack the Ripper was here, too, and although there was an odd fascination with him on Earth, Lucifer found him to be particularly dull. His micro-penis and screeching, pitchy voice were the things that drove him to commit his brutal murders, obviously, but his loop was boring. Over and over again, a teenaged version of Jack was subjected to scorn and laughter after he was found with his pants down, his tiny dick in his hand. Fucking pathetic. Even the demons found the assignment to Jack's cell to be punishment for them because no one bled, no one died. They didn't even need their knives. It was just one long loop full of laughter, tears, and that tiniest dick in what might be all of human history. _Father could be so cruel to his toys at times_ , Lucifer mused.

Lucifer picked up his pace as he strolled past Jack's door, ignoring the wails coming from inside. He was nearing the wing of war criminals, genocidal maniacs, and mass murders. It was here where he employed the best, most blood-thirsty demons. Equivalent to a super-max prison on Earth, this area had been Maze's specialty, and it was where she had brought the likes of Hitler and Jim Jones to their knees again and again. Blood flowed freely through these corridors, leaking out from the under the cell doors and running in rivulets along the ridged stones. Even though the loops started again and again, there wasn't enough time for the blood to stop. The blood never stopped. _They deserved nothing less._

Lucifer could barely stand the sounds today. He hated to admit it to himself, because with admission came pain and self-loathing, but he missed sunlight, the smell of ocean breezes, and even the screeching of those asshole seagulls that the Detective insisted on feeding when they had a few minutes of respite while working a case.

Unable to fight it anymore, his thoughts turned to her. It has only been a few months in Earth time since he had left her behind, and her words repeated in his head nearly every second.

_"Please, don't go. I… I love you. I love you! Please, don't leave."_

They had become his own personal Hell loop, delivering him utter pleasure before gutting him with pain because he had left her. He had to. He had always been blamed for the sins of humans, wrongly convicted of things he hadn't done and that they were themselves responsible for, but it was his celestial burden to control the demons and damned souls of this place. He left for her – because of her - and even for her mouthy little daughter. Hell had to remain here, in these dark, endless depths of nothing. He had to do everything within his power to keep this damnable evil from reaching Earth, where his friends, and especially his beautiful, saucy Chloe, could come to harm. He was sure her words would eventually result in his own madness, and he could picture himself crowded into the corner of an empty cell, his clothing tattered, his eyes wild with loss and grief. He wouldn't need demons to feel torture. Loving Chloe Decker brought him life, but leaving her meant he was facing the worst kind of damnation.

The sound of wings flapping in the windless, endless void made Lucifer pivot on his heel and turn toward the noise. Amenadiel landed softly, his wings folding inward as he strode toward Lucifer.

"Brother!" Lucifer exclaimed, a smile crossing his face for the first time in at least eight hundred years. "Are you lost? To what do I own this pleasure?"

Amenadiel's face was grim. "You're needed on Earth, Lucifer. We need you to come back."

The forcefulness in Amenadiel's voice made Lucifer pause. "The Detective?" He asked, and then added with a hint of worry, "Chloe?"

"No," Amenadiel shook his head, and Lucifer nearly went weak with relief. "Not Chloe particularly, but it involves her, and if you don't come back and help her, it might not end well. That's not a message I can handle delivering to you, Luci, so you need to go. Chloe needs you."

"I can't leave. You know I can't." Lucifer shoved his hands through his hair, a wild look crossing his face. Torn between duty and... duty.

Lucifer gave Amenadiel a pleading look, and he watched as Amenadiel's shoulders slumped. "Go," he sighed. "I'll stay."

"Are you sure?"

Amenadiel nodded. "Yes, but please come back. I need to get back to Charlie."

Relief, which wasn't a common feeling here, rushed over him. Nodding at Amenadiel, Lucifer unfurled his wings, the white feathers gleaming against the stark, dark nothingness of his surroundings. He already felt lighter as he lifted off, his leather shoes dangling a few feet above the stone corridor. "Thank you, Brother."


End file.
